


Child

by bexacaust



Series: Closure [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For one so s m a l l<br/>You seem so s t r o n g</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child

You found him, clothing scorched and his face sticky in tears. His eyes were broken down, his shoulders slumped as the aethermist drifted over his legs where he sat.

Tired, so tired.

At first you thought it was him, that he had come back to you…

The symbol upon his shirt made you pause, made your dead heart clench and your hands recede back into your voluminous gown. Death had been your rebirth; draping you once more in jade and black and artful dark lines.

He looked up to you.

“..Ka…Kanaya?”

“No. I am sorry.”

He blinked, and nodded, letting his head hang, “Oh… Okay.”

You tilted your head, your face a mask as he breathed deeply.

“I was… I was hoping I could find her because I…”

He ground his teeth together (short but sharp, like his) and let off a raspy sob.

“I-I f-f-failed and I’m  _hurting_  and I’m a-all a-alone  _again_ …”

You walked closer, the mist parting like the Apostles for the Madonna, as he spoke through jump and juttery breaths and gasps.

“I j-just wanted to win, to save  **EVERYONE**  I just wanted to be  **WORTH**  my own  **COLOR**!”

He covered his dripping eyes with an arm and sobs, “I know n-no one fucking  **CARES**  but just this  **ONCE**  I wanted to  _prove my world **WRONG**_!”

For a second, you see it.

For a second, he’s there, beaten down with scraped knuckles and bloodied sickles. He’s there and he’s so angry and those gentle rose tears are leaking from him.

“Please don’t cry, don’t cry, it’ll be alright.”

He looks up as you kneel, and you take his face in your hands, swollen knuckles and smooth skin. The pads of your thumbs brush over his cheekbones and break the tear trails left from mourning causes and casualties and you kiss his forehead.

“Once he cried as you do, and Mother help me I loved him then.”, you murmur, “I knew I must protect him, I must keep him close and see his steps as my heartbeat.”

You pull away, you look down to him and smooth unruly dark curls away from his face.

“I failed.”

“No, no you didn’t.”, you say quietly, your heart overflowing with something warm, alabaster and mother’s milk painted over lines drawn in dried blood and the scorchmarks on hellstone.

“He would be so proud of you, my little one, my new prayer.”

“I’m no prayer I’m a curse.”

“You are a sign, a sign for the troll without one, that his message lived on.”, you said softly, “You are the symbol to rally behind, you. Young one, small boy, who loved so much and tried so hard. You stood so tall and you channeled his rage, the anger he struggled with for so long, you have done what he could not.”

He blinks at you, eyes filling again.

“Come here, small one. Let me hold you, let me keep you safe.”, you breath, soft as dandelion fluff in the breeze, “Let me banish your tears. I am here now.”

His eyes blinked away the last seconds of life, they went as white as your own, and he crawled into your arms. You sat in a puddle of jade skirts, your cloak spread behind like a funeral train and gathered him into your lap.

“They named me the Weeping Mother.”, you said to him, and he looked at you with sudden recognition, “And in a single moment, you brushed gold leaf onto the halos they gave us with whispers.”

He blushed, burying his face into your shoulder. You stroked his hair, you kissed the top of his head, and you rocked him back and forth.

_“If we are Saints, then you are the **angel**  we followed. You are the  **burning brand** , you are the  **broken shackle** , child of my heart.”_

His shoulders jumped.

“You have not failed, little star, far from it.”, you whispered, letting his fists curl in the fabric of your gowns, “You have not failed, I promise you.”

You stand now, carrying him in your arms like you carried a Messiah once.

“I will stand beside you, until you can stand again. And if you permit me, I will stand beside you until the worlds break apart to dust.”

You nuzzle his head, carrying him into the aethermist to continue your search.

“We all will… little Vantas.”

He pressed against you, and your spine straightened. 

The afterlife was silent as the Madonna’s steps went gently into a long night.


End file.
